“Recently?” I had to focus on his earlobe to keep my gaze from wandering over the front of his body and downward. He let his arms sink below the surface of the water. His hands came to rest between his thighs. I took the floating washcloth and wrung out warm water over each of his knees. Grabbing a couple more cloths from the shelf, I waited as they absorbed the heated water before placing them across his upper chest and shoulders
“Not, not for years. Our paths diverged. I moved to Canada. She went… I don’t know where she went, but when she came back, she was changed, like something in her had twisted. She spent more and more time in her tree form. Even her mother noticed.”
Silence, punctuated by water dripping from the faucet, mingled with steam and rose toward the tongue-and-groove paneling. The robin’s-egg blue paint matched the ceiling of my grandparents’ porch in Maine.
“Jessamyne thinks I carry seeds with me,” Tanner said, his gaze and voice woozy. “Seeds that yield trees capable of bearing the Apples of Immortality when cultivated under the right conditions.”
“Is Jessamyne the Apple Witch and…” How to ask this delicately… “You mean seeds as in sperm, your sperm?”
“Yes. Jessamyne’s the Apple Witch. And yes, she’s right, I do carry the sacred seeds. But she’s completely misguided about where they’re stored and how to get them out of me.” He rolled his head against the back of the tub and stared at my throat.
My fingers stroked the braided leather thrumming against my collarbones and the back of my neck.
“Now you carry the seeds too.” He lifted his hand and rolled enough that he could run a dripping finger over the cords. “I’ll take the necklace from you once Abi and Cliff are safe. I have to deal with Jessa in the daylight. With my clothes on. Hopefully with help.” Tanner pressed his chin toward his chest and curled forward. Water, streaming off his skin, turned him into a sea creature rising reluctantly from the liquid depths. “Do you see the tree?”
“The one tattooed on your buttock and down your leg? That one?”
“Run your hand over the top of the design.”
The heat of the water had added a red flush to the slightly lighter skin color of his butt. I had been curious about the tiny raised bumps since I’d first seen them. Under the pads of my fingertips, the bumps felt like…
“These are seeds too,” I said. “So how come they haven’t dissolved?”
“They were encapsulated in glass bubbles before insertion.” He untwisted his torso so he could slide his body under the surface of the water again. “Jessamyne bound me to one of the Great Trees, Calli, and she took— She…” He gestured to his washcloth-covered lap, opened his eyes wide to the ceiling, and spoke forcefully. “We had ritual sex and part of me reveled in the experience and part of me was reviled by it, and I hope to the goddesses and gods that I am never asked or coerced or forced into doing anything like that ever again.”
His words dissipated into the steam coming off the water and the surface of his body. I sat on my heels and stared at his profile. Tension gathered into three deep furrows between his eyebrows. The rest of his features were a series of sharply defined curves, from the sweep of his nose to the little scoop under his bottom lip.
I wanted to kiss the deep plum of those lips but not now, not with what Jessamyne had forced on him. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry, Tanner.” I came onto my knees to gently tease the last bits of flora out of his hair. “I will listen anytime you need to talk. And I will set my wild and willing vines on that woman if she shows up here again, as a witch or a tree.”
He almost smiled before he closed his eyes. “Wait until we find out about our friends. And, Calli, she’s my problem. Unless she’s had a complete break from the Keeper tradition, there’s no way she would have participated in the deaths of the hidden folk. She knows they’re crucial to maintaining the sacred trees. I think it makes more sense to focus on the Fae, on what they’ve done and what they’re planning to do.”
Tanner was going pale, even in the heat of the water.
“I think it’s time for you to finish up in here and get some food in you,” I said. “And rest.”
“You’re right.” His eyelids fluttered open, and he stared upward. “I’d like to wash my hair first.”
I uncapped the shampoo. “Give me your hand.”
The blush on his neck deepened. Closing his eyes, he asked, “Would you wash it for me?”
He wouldn’t see my answer. I pressed my lips together and nodded, my sexual attraction toward this man tamped down, lid secured. I concentrated on the micro-movements that would transfer shampoo from the bottle to my hand: pour a healthy dollop into my palm, recap the bottle, and distribute the thick liquid between both palms.
“Could you slide down and get your hair really wet?” I asked.
Tanner drew his knees into his chest, rounded his spine, and sank deeper into the tub. He tilted his head, let the water cover his face, and stayed there, suspended, strands of mink-dark hair calling to be stroked, curled around my fingers, brushed over my bare skin.
“Tanner,” I said, breaking my reverie to tap his shin. “Sit up.”
His features rose above the surface. He wiped one hand across his face, covered his nose and blew out water, and sat up. I spread my fingers through his hair and over his scalp and massaged him clean and free of debris. When I signaled I was finished, he groaned, louder this time, and leaned his head back.
“Thank you,” he mouthed before ducking his head until he was
